"Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves."
The physical process of doing one's own moral inventory involves listing out resentments of people, places or even things, writing out the individual resentments of each person, place or thing, then writing how you were selfish, dishonest, self-seeking and afraid of each of those resentments.
It is not uncommon for this to take a while. It took me six months; I wanted to be thorough. Out of investigating and dragging up old feelings of my past, came a deep urge to physically inventory my external self as well; my apartment. When I discarded all of my shame and bitterness onto paper and recognized my part in things, the shame and filth of my own surroundings became painfully unbearable.
I began a process of purging, planning, organizing, reshaping, and moving furniture. What was originally planned as a simple spring clean and maybe light dusting and a room change, has become a complete overhaul of my entire apartment.
I have lived in this unicorn of apartments for ten years. 10. A decade. A LOT has happened between these walls, and it showed. Carpets are destroyed, and my couch has been privy to more private parts that I probably even know. I have been fortunate enough to live alone, in a large apartment at Lake Merritt for all these years, and it has been home base for me and my after parties for just as long.
So, my hallway continues to be lined with Goodwill loads, and my pinterest boards are full of inspiration. I've read the Magical Art of Tidying Up and it's companion guide Spark Joy. I have made a lot of progress, but like my 4th step, inventories take time and processing. There is resistance and a distinct sense of procrastination and a keen death grip on the order in which I do things. I've even made a legit project plan. There will be contingencies, and I've definitely met some milestones.
As I am nearing the end of the purge process, I have already begun to repair some of the damage. Even though I have been sober for over 10 months, started eating healthier, seeing a chiropractor, taking different and more effective supplements, my neck pain continued if not worsened. I noticed the discomfort mostly when trying to fall asleep. I have this sense of needing more support under my neck, as if there is this slight pull happening from the top of my head.
I bought a new pillow. That didn't work, in fact it made it worse as it was too fluffy and my head was cocked too high. I noticed my mattress was sagging so I bought a pillow topper; memory foam with cool gel. Not cool. The sag still existed so I sacrificed an old pillow to fill in the gap. That seemed to solve my back pain but the neck still aches for support, or just some relief.
It has occurred to me that there is still a very vital part of my past that lingers. My dreadlocks. My hair is the product of struggle, of damage, of self inflicted armor that I created as a means to wear my survivorship as a badge of honor. Death, grief, divorce, breakups, loneliness, shame, pain and heartbreak. All that weight is bearing down on me and my poor neck. It's gotten so long that it's brilliant to look at when I artistically shape it into poofy pony bundles, and the odd day I wear it completely down it's below my breasts. These are the dreads you dream of when you decide to start the journey. It seems funny that when you arrive at your destination, it's time to turn around.
I've been aware of the "It's Time" moment for a while now. I've been holding on I guess, procrastinating and hanging onto the old stuff just a little while longer. Afraid, that cutting them won't actually relieve my neck pain and I'll still battle my bed every night like the insomniac I've always been. I want to sleep so badly, because now that I am sober, sleep is more sound and rejuvenating. I'm often tired at a normal bedtime hour and have the will to heed it's call unlike so many nights of dread, avoiding the final task of the day in fear of doing it all again tomorrow.
I want to be free to soar to new heights in this magical life I've been given. There is so much I want to do, and am planning to do, but something, this aching, is enough to drive me mad. I am not that old and should not be in this much pain when simply trying to rest. Sobriety hasn't been that difficult for the most part, but perhaps it's the letting go of the past that ties me up. This idea that I am not worthy of total freedom, or maybe it's the FEAR of ultimate freedom that I must explore.
Perhaps it's simply the fear of the awkward bald phase. Will I still be beautiful? Will I put off men for months until I have hair again? I probably need a few months to reinvent myself after releasing that garbage anyway. I guess it's time.
Nov. 2010
It all started here. I dyed my hair half orange as a means to get wild before I thought dying my hair would be more difficult. It wasn't.
Jan. 2011
Phase 1. Distinct lack of combing. It was big and fluffy and I loved that.
Late Jan. 2011
Phase 1.5. Tiny dreads! I remember wishing it would stay like that forever. My hair is normally so thin and flat and fine, and this was full of body and life. I knew I was onto something.
July 2011
And then I took the plunge. It was not cute, and it got really short. Full blown sections and backcombs and palm rolls and the unfortunate mistake of using beeswax. Oh how much I would learn in the coming years.
Aug. 2011
And then this happened. The process of making synthetic hair dreads was tedious to say the least, and I overshot the mark a little. These were totally huge, unsustainable and I was so frightened that they would actually be this unwieldy when my real ones grew out. I wasn't far off, but these made me feel like a mermaid.
Jan. 2012
Then I got right sized and made the most majestic synthetic dread extensions ever. I tried to recreate this color palette later on with hair dye, but nothing really quite did it like these.
Nov. 2012
Ta-da! First time out in the wild on their own! They were finally long enough to see the light of day.
Dec. 2013
Mom didn't much care for the dreadlocks, and I still don't think she does. I remember this early stage taking forever to gain some real length. They felt this short and awkward for what seemed like forever.
April 2014
Majestical. I remember feeling like I was coming into my own at this time. Dreads, myself, everything. I was hitting my stride.
Nov. 2014
This trip changed my life. I returned to Humboldt and it's beautiful coastline; the place where I had originally done dreads many years ago. It felt like a homecoming.
Feb. 2015
Length! I finally had the dreads I was looking for. It only took 4 years.
July 2015
Nov. 2015
This is about the time I started to contemplate the end of the journey. This photo embodies a lot of that sentiment of changing times. A friend who was the catalyst for starting my dread journey, and a friend who will see me through the next while she also embarks on her own.
To be continued...
